Tuesday, October 14, 2014
gathering my things to go back to the west side, i stumbled through a few of my written pages. one year ago was written and red, without much detail ... tangled with this creature. tangled in such a way that no other word will ever describe "it" better than... entanglement. if i didn't have the brief pen marks and a velvet black scarf, a book of poems given... well i'd believe that i made him all up. though he was real then, he is now false and no matter the amount of saline that falls from my lids... nothing will bring him back to this life. the life that we once lived was too bright and beautiful to be real; maybe it was only meant to be fiction, published... years from now. either way, i am blessed to say that in such a manner we let down the walls, briefly, to see what was inside. now living feels numb and i am at a loss of my former self. she died. a ghost that haunts me and his handsome face... flashes in the moonlight of my memory.